


Rock

by Neunte



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, F/F, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, SI, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-05-31 05:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neunte/pseuds/Neunte
Summary: If his sister was going to be fighting against the current and climb to the top of the waterfall in hopes of being able to stand by her teammates’ side, then he could only hope to be the rocks to steady and ground her through the journey.





	1. Chapter 1

From a young age, Kizashi and Mebuki knew that their son would be quite different from the other children; he is far too quiet, far too terrified and _far too_ withdrawn-even to his own family- to be declared ‘ _normal_ ’. Since he had learnt how to speak, and how to walk; the Haruno couple can count on one hand how often he spoke but yet at at school, his sentence all came out careful and eloquent-advanced beyond his age.

* * *

Kizashi was happy; his son might just be a _genius_! Kano is clearly incredibly intelligent and wise beyond words-unnaturally so but that is overlooked by the joyous Kizashi.

However, Mebuki was less so; it is a little known fact but Mebuki had came from a clan and she knew- _god she knew_ that her son wouldn’t be able to be with her should her Clan Head hear about this, her son will be drafted into the Academy before she can even utter a _word_ ; so she brought her son to the attic, quietly while her husband is on a mission and sat him down.

* * *

 

”Kano...” She began, feeling silly for speaking so seriously to a 3 years old boy but she knew, she _knew_ by that minute reaction and glint in his eyes that he understood, “I know you are very intelligent but...you need to act normal, alright? Bad people might come and take you otherwise- _just_...” She had trailed off, unsure of what to say to her son.

Here she is, telling her son to not be himself, to hide and act; her three year old son. Her heart raged and fought against it but she knew, rationally, that if she doesn’t do this then he might just be separated from her, his very life might just be in danger and sometimes, she realised, sacrifices would be necessary.

”I understand, okaasan.”

* * *

 

Kano knew that something was wrong the day his ‘mother’ brought him to the hospital when he caught a particularly bad case of cold; in his fever-dazed state, he briefly saw shadows flitting over the rooftops and children with strange looks on their faces and bloodstained metal headbands on their body. The hospital had denied his mother entrance; saying something along the lines of them being _overworked_ and _overcrowded_ but Kano had paid it no mind.

To say that Mebuki was frazzled would be an understatement; she had been tears eyed and her voice was shrill but the man standing in front of the hospital did not budge in the slightest; Kano didn’t know what happened but the next thing he knew she was placing a cool wet cloth over his forehead and wiping down his sweaty body while muttering, _crying_.

He was confused, reached out towards her wondering what was wrong but all she got was a massive hand clutching is and a choked, “ _Please be alright_...”

* * *

 

They weren’t living in a peaceful, Kano realised when his father returned one day practically drenched in blood and has more than several stitches across his neck; the man looked like he had seen a goddess when he opened the door to the sight of his mother feeding him. Kano remembered how his mother had practically thrown down the spoon and ran towards the man that was his father, crying and laughing all at the same time.

He thought that it would last, that he would perhaps see the woman who he now calls ‘mother’ smile more, having less stress lines and simply be _happy_ instead of crying everyday; but _no_ , life is never quite fair.

Within what seemed to be days, Kizashi was gone yet again and his previously vibrant mother had faded back into the ghost she once was; however it became worse, far, _far_ worse. Her hair started thinning and stress lines became ever more apparent; there was nothing Kano could have done except to push himself up quicker and learn to talk faster-

He isn’t going to let this woman who fed him, clothed him and saved him from the nightmare that was his previous life by bringing him to this world, fade away. _Never again._

* * *

 

Mebuki’s worst nightmare came true when Kano was merely 4 years old- _Oyakata-sama_ sent a missive for her to enter her son into the Academy, having registered him under the clan. She was angry, rightfully so but hopelessness eventually sunk in; _what can she do_? Should she resist, her son would be taken from her and put into the Academy regardless.

The very least she could do was to be the rock that would steady her son, the home her son would come home to and _by the lords_ \- she pray that he would.

 

* * *

He was never quite the same.


	2. Oyakata-sama

Kano knew what a major fuck-up he is since the moment he was born, and before that as well; his entire life could be described as a major fuck-up since his first birth and now it only seemed to get worse by the second time he was born. It was as if he was the plaything of a particularly vindictive god with a nasty sense of humour.

Regardless, at the age of 4-with his awkward, pudgy limbs and lisping words, Kano was brought by his silent mother to a place far, far away from where they currently live. Kano wobbled slightly beside his mother-who only looked more and more grim and resigned with each step towards their destination.

He almost tripped on at least ten separate occassions due to the unpaved road, and later down the line, trying to balance himself on the extremely uneven cobblestone path and passing through a modest looking gate on the edges of the town they are in; Kano wondered what are they doing so far away from the center of the town, but when he asked in his usual clipped and slow Japanese, all he got in return was a strained smile and watery eyes.

_“You will know when we get there, Kano.”_

 

* * *

 

The man sitting in front of him is so completely monochrome, Kano briefly wondered if he was even human in the first place; while hair, sickly pale skin paired with a black-white monochrome full yukata outfit and those dark eyes, it was no wonder that Kano mistook the man as a ghost when he first saw him.

But despite his eccentric appearance, Kano knew that he is not one to be trifled with.

 _Oyakata_ , the way of a parent; though with that man’s strangely oppressive presence, Kano mused that the more modern definition of the word would fit him better.

The  _master_ , so to say.

”Kamishiro-kun,”  _His mother’s maiden name,_ Kano recalled, “I’ve heard that you are very mature for your age?” The man smiled almost patronisingly, tilting his head just ever so slightly as he regarded the four-year old boy in front of him, with hair just as white and eyes just as dark. 

“That’s what most people say, sir.”

Seeing that strange smile- _the cat that ate the canary-_ on that man’s face, and the innocuous suggestion of becoming a ‘shinobi’ that followed after, Kano has got a feeling that he should have kept his mother’s words in mind and acted like an idiotic child. Especially when it seemed that his mother is going to agree with everything the man is saying-and not once is Kano allowed to say a word.

_Children are to be seen, not to be heard after all._

 

* * *

 

That night his mother held him and apologised incessantly, all the while tying his belongings into a large bag and smothering him with what seemed to be a lifetime worth of affection in only several hours. 

The next morning, he awoke to a wooden ceiling and a young girl with the brightest silver hair he has ever seen kicking him on his stomach and telling him to ‘get up and train because no enemy is going to wait on you to kill you’- an odd analogy, but a few minutes later when a kunai blade nicked his ear and he was stared down and reprimanded surprisingly harshly by a middle aged man missing a leg, Kano has got a feeling that it is only going to get more real as time pass by.

 

* * *

 

The girl, Fuchizaki, is a welcome presence in the strangely oppressive and silent clan compound; the Kamishiro has never gotten along well with the outsiders after all. If Kano was a small sapling, Fuchizaki would be the great tornado that will no doubt uproot him in a matter of seconds, every day, consistently; evident in how even after three months of living there, Kano is still caught off guard whenever the hyperactive girl decide on something absolutely random only to drag him into it no matter how much he may protest.

Their trainer, Takaoka is a grouchy and bitter one; despite being bound to a wheelchair on most days and hobbling on a crutch on some days, the veteran still has a mean kunai-throwing hand and little to no qualms about driving them both to the ground and leaving them crying and wheezing over chakra burns because  _’pain is part of the lesson’._

In short, both Kano and Fuchizaki absolutely despises their lessons with Takaoka; after the twentieth lap around the village and the tenth time they have been tasked to sneak alcohol from the kitchen the initial enthusiasm of Fuchizaki had also bled away along with what respect Kano had for the man.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes the nights are long, and Kano is swallowed by guilt; is that woman, his mother, doing okay? Will she be alright on her own? Has his father came back from the war? _How long does he have before he too will be sent to the battlefields?_

 

 

 


	3. Questioning

_“Why?”_

This word seeemed to weigh on his mind the most.

 _Why is he here? Why was he reincarnated? Why is the Oyakata-same doing this? Why would they be at at war? Why is this world so strange and different from his own? Why...why...why..._ the questions spun around and echoed in Kano’s head nearly every waking moment, whispering at the back of his head during breakfast, training- 

_Why is he here?_

At this point he isn’t even sure what exactly is he asking. Is he asking about the purpose of his existence in this world? Or perhaps he is asking about his presence in this household? Of why he is training like a soldier nearly every day even though he has only been in this world for a total of four years?

Kano felt his mind drift and his heart become heavy even as he is running through another set of kata- he knew, he knew that deep inside him he has the answer-at least to one of them, and the only reason he is still asking  _that_ question is because he is too scared to face it-

“Pay attention!” A slap echoed through the dojo, quite literally slapping him into attention; the boy turned around immediately, barely registering the stinging sensation on his cheek and because of that, found his forehead knocking against the ground barely a moment later.

”Your enemy is not going to wait for you to get your shit together! With that shitty attitude of yours, you’d be dead before you even hit the front lines!” The words were harsh and loud, ringing loudly in the dojo but only silence greeted the trainer reprimand as Kano only nodded hastily, not daring to make a peep.

A few painfully slow seconds passed, before Kano managed to scrape up what bravery he found in his soul enough to finally reply.

”Yes, sir. I apologize for not paying attention, sir.”

It was at times like this that Kano abruptly recalled some of the poems he picked up occasionally when he was still  _that person._

” _Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die.’_

That verse resonated with him, and remained on his mind throughout the day.

* * *

The agreement Mebuki had with the Oyakata-sama is that until Kano has shown himself possessing the _gift_ of the clan, only that he is allowed to return.

Kano could only stare at the Oyakata-sama in disbelief as the man told him about it jovially, and quietly ask that exactly does the  _gift_ entail.

The man did not say anything after that, only smiling a dark and secretive smile before patting him on his head and sauntering away just as his assistant came rushing, practically slamming open the shoji and desperately calling for him. 

At that point, Kano figured that he would just leave- he won’t get anything here- though just as he left, he heard the assistant mentioning something about a ‘ _very important meeting.’_

_He probably should have paid attention then._

* * *

 

“What do you lintballs know about chakra?” 

Kano looked up from his slumped position on the floor of the dojo-ignoring the eccentric names the trainer enjoys calling them- and drew his lip into a thin line; he is quite sure that he had read about it briefly only several weeks ago, though it was completely lost after several days of gruelling memorization and tests about the toxicity of various plants found in nature.

Regardless, if he recalls correctly, it is supposed to be some sort of energy that keeps living things, well,  _living_.

“An energy found in all living things?” He spoke up first, attempting and failing to make his sentence sound less like a question- and by the disapproving look on the teacher’s face, he failed  _spectacularly._

“A mixture of yin and yang energy!” Fuchizaki, or ‘Fuki’ as he had taken to calling her recently, spoke up excitedly, seemingly rejuvenated from the torturous training session trainer Takaoka put them through only several minutes ago. Kano let out a embarrassed look at forgetting about  _that_ when it is possibly the most interesting thing out of all that they have been studying.

”Yes, both of you only got half of it correct-now, have a member of the Kamishiro clan be an uneducated fuck when it comes to chakra is a fucking embarrassment so listen up you little shits,” The man let out a small grin and both the children immediately feel their heart skip a beat at that expression, as it usually meant something absolutely  _painful_ will follow after.

The man shifted on his wheelchair, which in Kano’s opinion only looks like a regular chair with rusted wheels attached to it, and straightened his back, “So yes, chakra is an energy found in every living beings, as well as a mixture of yin and yang energy- not only that, everyone has a distinct and unique chakra.”

Kano blinked, filing that interesting tidbit of information into his brain; he supposes that it wouldn’t be so surprising that everyone has chakra unique to themselves but he had never consciously thought about it that way before.

”But us, the Kamishiro clan, can take it and change it to our will.” At that a nasty smile appeared on his face, “ _We_ hold absolute dominion over chakra, it is ours to take and manipulate to our will and-,” Takaoka glanced at Kano with a knowing smile, eyes lingering on his hair longer than necessary, “It is said that  _those with pure white hair, can go beyond that and take control of the souls.”_

Ignoring the look of awe on Fuchizaki’s face, Kano felt something heavy drop down into his stomach at what his teacher said next-  _They **knew.**_

”as they are the ones that are _the closest to the Spiritual Realm.”_

* * *

 With the pale moonlight streaming through the thin shoji, Kano thought that the Oyakata-same looked rather terrifying; the man’s white hair and chalk-white skin seemed more pronounced with the shadows, and his eyes could barely be seen.

”Takaoka wasn’t too cryptic I hope,” Oyakata-sama joked, “He always had a tendency of doing that- bit melodramatic, but funny at times, no?”

Kano didn’t know what to say but to only nod slightly, deciding to go straight to the point seeing as Oyakata-sama has already foresaw this happening, “He said that those with white hair, can go beyond that and take control of the souls, because they are the ones that are the closest to the Spiritual Realm?” He recalled it word for word, ignoring the amused look on the Oyakata-sama face, no doubt he has planned the script as well.

Trainer Takaoka usually preferred doing things straight to the point and is usually brutally honest anyways.

Oyakata-sama nodded a smile stretching across his face, almost like the cat that caught the canary, and leaned forwards onto the table, “Exactly, and I assume you have seen it then-“

**”The Wheel of Samsara,”**

Kano startled, surprised at himself for speaking out of turn but Oyakata-same only chuckled, “Though, I think it looks more like an oval.”

Part of him agreed with the other man, but Kano immediately brought himself back to the situation at hand, “So does that mean that-“

A hand rose up to stop him and the Oyakata shushed him as if he was a child-even though he knew.

“ _Come now_ ,” He stood up from his seat and headed to the shoji behind his seat, “ _Let me tell you a bedtime story.”_

 


	4. Bedtime Story

_Once upon a time, there was a young woman with pure white hair and eyes so dark you can barely see the whites; she awoken in this strange land with strange memories and stranger powers unknown to her and endless possibilities awaiting her._

_Due to her strange appearance, she was scorned, chased out of villages and forced to the ends of the Earth where she hid in the mountains. The Gods pitied her, for she was incredibly lonely in the mountains without a single person within a hundred miles of her, and gave her a child._

_A child with hair just as white and eyes just as dark, who did not cry and shied away from her touch, only coming to her when it is necessary. The White Woman knew that this child is the same as herself, with strange memories from a past that does not exist._

* * *

”Where did you go last night?” Fuki tugged at his arm the next morning with a pout, having been pleading him since the very crack of dawn and through their early training, which had earned her more than a stern glare from the trainer Takaoka. “Come on, you can tell me, I won’t tell anyone!”

Kano resisted the urge to level a unimpressed look at the young girl; she had practically yelled out the fact that he was gone for the night for the entire compound to hear and he had gotten more than his fair share of suspicious and wary look from clan members ( _who he now noticed mostly had grey or silver hair_ ) after that ‘announcement’.

”You already did,” He deadpanned, “Please let go...I can’t walk like this.”

And with the whispering that is beginning to start up behind them, Kano is more than eager to head towards the usually much dreaded weapon-handling session with trainer Takaoka.

”Just tell me already!”

* * *

_The White Child eventually grew up, and spoke in a strange language the woman could not understand. She attempted to teach him her language, but the child refused, furious that someone is trying to take his language away from him. The White Child, in his anger, reached towards the woman and took a part of her soul as retribution.  
_

_The White Woman couldn’t understand what happened, but she was missing a big part of her._

_**”...ou...ar...me...on’t...for...e...ou...** ”_

_The White Woman could not understand a single word the Child said, but she knew the Child was terrified. In her desire to take away what is troubling him, she reached towards him and took a part of his soul, the part that hurt him so._

* * *

“We are like carpenters, in a way...sculptors, if you prefer,” Oyakata-sama chuckled as he browsed the numerous scrolls that lined the walls of the room; Kano took a glance at the shoji behind him and briefly wondered if following the Oyakata-as a in her was a good idea at all...but a gleeful gasp dragged his attention back to the man.

Oyakata-sama looked almost serene, as he carefully removed the scroll from its position on the top shelf; it was tattered and some parts were torn and seemingly pasted together again and the knobs look as if it was bound again and again and again to prevent it from falling apart. In short, it looks ancient.

The elder man headed to the table in the middle of the room and carefully placed the scroll on it, slowly, gently unravelling the parchment as if it could tear at the slightest pressure, and perhaps it would. As Kano moved up to the table, he saw how concentrated the man was as he picked the layer of parchment out, holding the rod carefully as he smoothed out the parchment.

* * *

_Terrified, the White Child ran from the woman- the woman could only watch as he ran, for it is the first time her powers were rendered useless against another being._

_The White Child would have been scorned, had he been yet another thoughtless commoner. Shamed and cast away for his pure white hair and dark, dark eyes, forced to hide away at yet another mountain or return to the White Woman._

_The White Child was a warrior once, and he too knew how to blend in with his surroundings; trusting that strange energy in him to guide his way, he covered his eyes claiming to be a blind man and lived with the other people._

_They called him Kamishiro, for his pure white hair._

_But despite that, each year he would return to the mountains; out of pity perhaps, for the woman who birthed him._

* * *

As if amused by his curiousity, Oyakata-same let out a small smile and gazed at the faded visual depictions on the parchmen, before he pointed towards several lines of characters on some parts of the painting. Kano had to squint at the odd, squiggly lines that vaguely looked like kanji, but not at the same time.

”Those are called guwen, a more...aged method of writing Chinese,” Kano’s head snapped up so quickly at the elder man that he heard a bone crick, does that mean that they are not only from the same Earth, but is in fact-

“One of our predecessors knew how to read it, and has fortunately passed that knowledge onto me,” Oyakata-sama said quietly, gently tracing the characters, “And I will teach you as well.”

Kano saw in his peripheral vision that the elder man looked almost resigned, disheartened almost compared to the obnoxious and jovial attitude he kept up on a day-to-day basis.

”Why isn’t there...” Kano struggled to find a word to properly express himself; his mind has been distracted after he has been shown that ancient scroll due to the fact that he is unable to read nor comprehend what is depicted and written on it. “Why isn’t there more of, us? Since you said the White Woman had the White Child...what is the _point_ of this story?”

 


End file.
